


Mark of the Dragon

by ifinkufreaky



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the Tough Love quest. Female Elvish Rogue Inquisitor, not that it makes much of a difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark of the Dragon

             The dragon collapsed with one last shriek. This one had been particularly shrieky all along, and Brighid was glad it was over. Somewhat wearily, she tromped up to the twitching carcass. She was just in time to see Bull wind his axe over his head in one last swing, neatly lopping the dragon’s head off.

             “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that!” he said joyfully, massive chest heaving as he caught his breath. His face nearly cracked in half with the size of his smile. Brighid never saw him happier than when he was killing dragons, not even when they were…

             “Ah, Bull, so much of that blood is going to waste now,” chided Vivienne as she came running up, glass vials at the ready to gather the alchemically potent stuff. “Do you have to be so… messy?”

             “Messy is what I do,” Bull growled cheerfully, then he ran his hands through the spilling blood and flicked some in Vivienne’s direction.

             Messy was an understatement. More than half his body was red with blood, in varying stages of drying. Brighid idly wondered how much of it might be his own, but he never appreciated her fussing over his wounds so she had learned to stay silent on that matter. By contrast, it appeared the only stains to Vivienne’s pristine gown were the very drops of blood Iron Bull had just flung at her. She started to sputter in annoyance at him, so Brighid rushed to redirect her attention. “I think this one has some particularly useful webbing, come and see!” She pulled Vivienne around the other side of the massive carcass, and shot a half-hearted frown at Bull before they left line of sight.

             Vivienne’s eyes lit up when she saw it. “Oh yes, this is marvelous darling!” She produced an elegant little knife and began carving at the dragon’s steaming body.

             Brighid walked back around the carcass and heaved a sigh that came out heavier than she expected. Managing all the personalities of the Inquisition’s inner circle took a lot of mental energy at times. It compounded her physical exhaustion after that grueling battle, and the irritation of the sweat, and the dirt, and no small amount of blood peppering her own skin and armor. At least there were no Fade rifts nearby, so the mark of the Anchor in her hand was only a dull constant throb.

             The Iron Bull suddenly loomed up in front of her. He probably wasn’t trying to loom of course, but with his giant frame he could hardly do anything else. He still had that crazy grin; he looked like he felt just about the opposite of how she did right now. She waited for him to make some quip, or get in her head with some of that Ben-Hassrath insight, but he just smiled down at her. Warm, and joyful, and more than a little lusty. Though they had spent many days, and nights, together, he was always so focused on her needs, or the needs of his men, that she never felt she was truly getting to know the real Bull. She had started to wonder if Qunari even had the depth of personality other people did, or if the Qun’s focus on service had bred it all out of them. But now, right now, her breath caught at this glimpse of the Iron Bull focused solely on his own wants. And she was one of them.

             He reached out and grabbed the side of her face, not exactly tenderly, and pulled her lips up to meet his. She had been starting to think that Qunari didn’t like to kiss, either, but the passion in the workings of his mouth blew that particular theory away. She didn’t even mind the sharp taste of the dragon’s blood that speckled his lips, or the fact that she could barely breathe with her neck stretched at this angle, trying to bridge the difference between their heights. That in fact, was turning out to be a lovely version of the breath play he had been introducing her to…

             His other hand wrapped around her right buttock and she thought for a moment he was going to lift her up to straddle him. He broke off the kiss instead, pulling her tightly into him as he moved his mouth to her ear. “I would take you right here on this battlefield if we were alone, boss,” he growled, his hand leaving her face and balling into the hair at the back of her head instead. His voice was ragged, barely in control. “I almost don’t care how uncomfortable it would make our friends. Too bad they’re not the types to just join in.”

             Brighid sighed. She wanted him badly too, but was mortified at the very thought of what he was suggesting. Sometimes it was very apparent they came from two different worlds. “I can’t imagine you’ve found anyone of that type in Thedas. The type to start an orgy on the fresh remains of a dragon.”

             “Sadly, no, though sometimes I wonder about you…” he pulled his face back to meet her eyes with a teasing smile, giving her arse one more squeeze. His words were light, but the intensity remained behind his eyes. Brighid did not want to let the sudden intimacy pass by only for propriety’s sake.

             “For you Bull…” she began.

             “We’ll have to take down the next one by ourselves,” he grinned. “Maybe… a slightly smaller one.” They stared at each other another moment in silence. He seemed to be collecting that cool Qunari control again. “Fuck, you look good after battle.” His thumb played across her cheek, making her realize it was thick with dragon’s blood somehow. “Come find me as soon as you’ve finished your high and mighty Inquisition business, boss.” His face drew nearer and he dropped his voice low. “And you’d better not wash up before then.” He drew her into another breathless kiss, then turned and dove eagerly back into the butchery of harvesting the corpse.

             Brighid needed a few more breaths before she could get back to work, herself. Things hadn’t felt that intense between them since he had first startled her in her room, offering her a “ride” and showing her the best way he could be of service to her was in forcing her to be of service to him. But this moment had been different; with his desires in full evidence it had felt like a real, two-way relationship for the first time. And she wanted more of that.

             With Bull distracted, Brighid crept around to the monstrous head he had so casually lopped off moments ago. A few quick movements found a loose tooth that she slipped into her pocket, remembering a story he had told her about a Qunari token of affection. She felt a nervous thrill as she contemplated presenting him with a necklace made from half of it, hoping desperately he would accept it, that he would keep showing her his true self and what he really wanted. What he really needed.

             When everything of value had been taken from the dragon’s body, the group reconvened for the long walk back to Skyhold. Dorian got a good look at Brighid and bursted out laughing. “Someone was getting a little _handsy_ while they worked, too bad it wasn’t me!”

Brighid looked confused for a moment, and Dorian fluttered his hand over his hip. She looked down at her own and saw an enormous handprint outlined in blackening dragon’s blood, perfectly cupping her arsecheek. She turned wide, accusing eyes to Iron Bull, who grinned silently and spread his big hands as if to fend her off, still red and dripping.

“That is some interesting warpaint on your face, my dear, though it was an odd choice to apply it _after_ the battle,” Vivienne chimed in, arching one elegant eyebrow in good-natured mockery. Brighid put her hand to her bloody cheek, realized it bore the mark of Bull’s other hand. He reached over and grabbed her arm, holding it still before she could rub the memento away.

“Remember, boss,” he purred under his breath, “I told you not to clean up before you come see me tonight.”

Brighid straightened her back and let out a long, slow sigh. She had to face Josephine, and _Cullen_ like this? And Leliana would have a field day, it didn’t exactly take a spymaster to deduce which member of the Inquisition had such enormous hands. That mark on her arse, paraded all the way up to the war room in Skyhold, for all to see… Brighid’s face burned almost as red as the blood, but the sudden burning in her loins was even stronger. She looked at Bull and saw a mirrored intensity. This wasn’t just for her pleasure. This was for him, too.

She’d do it a thousand times.

         


End file.
